


Shut up and dance!

by anastasiapullingteeth



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Aromantic Character, Gen, Queerplatonic relationship, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastasiapullingteeth/pseuds/anastasiapullingteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, fuck me…" said Combeferre in an exasperated sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose and rolling his eyes.</p><p>"That'd be a pleasure," Courfeyrac answered with a cheeky smirk. Combeferre shook his head, hiding his grin from the other man's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. [Autumn]

**Author's Note:**

> A little something for Sami. I hope y'all like it!

When Combeferre set a foot on the streets of New York for the first time, bags in hand and hair messy for the long plane travel, he was just glad he wasn’t going to be on his own in this crazy asphalt jungle. Enjolras, his best friend since they were both three years old, had giving him the address of one of his classmates from that time he’d spent a year in America as an exchange student, and that was where he was heading to at the moment.

The guy, Courfeyrac, was looking for a roommate and, since Combeferre had nowhere to go and was living on a budget, he’d accepted to receive him in his humble home -as he himself had called it in the e-mail Combeferre had gotten days ago. With a last sigh and a quick glance around him, Combeferre made his way down the crowded sidewalk.

He asked for directions to a man,who guided him a few blocks away from the metro station he was at. The apartment was at the limits of the city, in an old neighborhood where the structures were practically falling apart but the rent was cheap enough for two college students; more accurately, two _poor-as-fuck_ college students.

He pressed the doorbell with the name “Courfeyrac” written next to it and waited for the other boy to answer. The intercom made a strange, beeping sound, followed by a young man’s voice. _“‘Ferre, right? Is that you? Come up here, apartment 24A!”_ he said, cheerfully, in a perfect american accent. Combeferre pushed the big door open and climbed up the stairs, practicing his introduction inside his head over and over again. He stood outside the apartment Courfeyrac had said, but before he could knock on the door, it opened wide, showing a smiling face crowned by a mop of wavy, brown hair.

"Hi! I’m Courfeyrac, Enjolras’ best friend!" he welcomed him, taking one of Combeferre’s bags out of his hands and pulling him inside by the arm. "Welcome to my -our?- home!"

"Uh…" Combeferre babbled, taken aback by the boy’s enthusiasm. He swallowed the immediate response that he was Enjolras’ best friend, as far as he knew, and stretched a hand to say hello properly. "Nice to meet you, I’m Combeferre."

"I know that already." Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "Anyway, this," he said, gesturing to the apartment at large. "Is were you’re gonna live now, if you accept."

The place was small; tiny, to be honest. All in a one single room without real walls or doors, except from those that were meant for the bathroom. There were two beds against the wall on Combeferre’s left, with a small bedside table between them, and a worn out couch and coffee table right in front of the main door. There was absolutely nothing dividing the “bedroom” of the “living room” -quotation marks needed-, meaning they could sit on the bed and watch the t.v. on the living room… If there was actually a t.v. in there. A small stove was situated in the farthest section of the apartment, with a few tables and what appeared to be an old bookshelf working as a cupboard. The books, that there were plenty of them in the place, were scattered under one of the beds, so Combeferre assumed that one was Courf’s.

"Charming", he said, placing the bag he was still holding next to the one Courfeyrac had left on the other bed.

"Yeah… It’s kinda ugly, but it’s cheap," the man in question said, resting his hands on his waist and looking around them. "We’ll divided the expenses and all that, is that okay?"

"Awesome, thank you."

"Oh, don’t even mention it… You won’t thank me that much when you have to shower tomorrow morning."

The next morning, Combeferre knew exactly what Courfeyrac meant. After a few hours sleep, he’d gotten in the shower at 6am, like he did every morning to prepare for his first class. He stepped under the spray of water, ready to relax a bit before the long day that was ahead of him, but the hot water barely lasted two minutes before a frozen squirt hit his neck and the back of his head. He practically ran to the other side of the shower, away from the cold water, but soon knew there was no case; that’d be the reality of his awaited morning bath.

He entered the living room, trembling from head to toe, and saw Courfeyrac already waiting for him with a big mug of steamy coffee. His nose was red as a cherry, witch meant he’d had his own encounter with the treacherous shower earlier that morning.

"I told you," he said, handing him his coffee. "Now it the time to run if you’ve changed your mind."

"Not at all. I can’t really ask for more."

The sat at the table facing each other, the awkward silence stretching beyond what was bearable, until Courfeyrac began a random conversation. “So… a philosophy student, uh?”

"Yeah…"

"And, like, what are you planning to do with that?"

Combeferre couldn’t suppress a laugh, which must have taken Courfeyrac by surprise, judging by the look he directed at Combeferre; he’d been asked that same question since he enrolled in college. It’d been annoying at first, but now, it simply made him laugh. “I have absolutely no idea,” he replied honestly.

"Oh… I’m studying Law but don’t be fooled by that! That’s just my way to get to my truest passion: musical theater!"

"Really?", he asked, incredulous.

"Dude, I didn’t moved to New York by a beautiful coincidence. Broadway is here! The home of musical theater is here!"

Combeferre smiled; it was actually kinda sweet the boy was so enthusiastic about life in general. “I hope you make your dream a reality soon, then.”

"Ohhh, I will! ... I'll give free tickets to my shows if you keep this particular part of my life a secret."

 

Living with Courfeyrac proved to be incredibly funny; he was everything Combeferre himself wasn't. He made silly jokes and laughed at the simplest thing, loved to dress fashionable, and listened to Taylor Swift's songs all day, singing the lyrics at the top of his lungs while cleaning the apartment. Neither of them were good in the kitchen, but Combeferre tried, every once in a while, to give back a bit of Courfeyrac's kindness by learning a few simple meals for them to eat.

They moved around each other in the apartment with relative ease, and were more or less comfortable sharing the place, even though Combeferre made sure to get dress and undress in the bathroom, were his roommate couldn't see him. And while College consumed most of their time, they made an effort to always have dinner together and get to know each other a little bit more. The first month and a half fled away incredibly fast and, before any of them could be prepare for it, Halloween was already knocking on their door.

They both were French, which meant they really didn't take part of the celebration, but that hadn't stopped Courfeyrac from compromising himself to attend to a few parties, one of them of a girl he'd met at the library a few days ago. He insisted on taking Combeferre with him and, even when the philosophy student had said that that wasn't necessary, the other boy didn't give up and tried his hardest to change Combeferre's mind as he added the last touches to his Cheshire Cat costume.

"Just for an hour, come on! You’ll have fun, I promise," he said, applying more make-up around his mouth.

"I appreciate the invitation but seriously, I'd rather stay here and maybe get some sleep."

"You're so boring."

Courfeyrac didn't stop pouting for another five minutes until it was time for him to go. Combeferre wished him good luck and Courfeyrac, after rolling his eyes at him, kissed him goodbye on the cheek. That took Combeferre by surprise but truth to be told, it hadn't been a bad surprise. He was already asleep by the time Courfeyrac came back to the apartment; when he woke up the next morning, he found a little bag of candies waiting for him on the pillow next to his. He shook his head, smiling, as he spied the contents of his small booty.


	2. [Winter]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Is anyone still interested in reading this? *hides under the bed due to the colossal shame*.

Winter break arrived just in time to prevent Combeferre from having a massive stroke, due to the amount of work he had to do in the previous weeks. The apartment window was already brightening with Christmas lights (Courfeyrac's work) and outside of their door, was a wreath (also Courfeyrac's work). It was incredible how easily his roommate got used to the American customs while Combeferre, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the weird feeling inside his stomach for preparing a dinner so far away from home; it'd be the first time he'd celebrate without his parents and his best friend. ****

He opened the lock of the door, rolling his eyes at the mistletoe hanging from the frame, and dropped his bag on top of a stack of books near his bed. Courfeyrac was nowhere to be seen, so he flopped down on the mattress, yawning and rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. He heard Courfeyrac coming out of the bathroom, but didn't open his eyes until the sound of something hitting the floor caught his attention.

"Uh, shit... That was my cologne, wasn't it?"

Courfeyrac was standing in the space between the two beds, hand stretched out to take something from the bedside table where he, fortunately, had knocked down a glass of water and not his precious cologne. He stood still and Combeferre noticed his face was completely white from some kind of... cosmetic cream. He tried to look at the floor, barely moving anything else apart from his eyes.

"No, it was a glass I left there last night. What's- what's that on your face?" Combeferre asked, cleaning the mess.

"This, my uncultivated friend" Courfeyrac said, pointing at his face, "is the key to my success." He laid down on his bed and pulled a couple of cucumber slices out of a plastic container, then put them over his closed eyes. He rested his hands on his stomach, and started humming a song Combeferre didn't recognize.

"I thought that was just a myth spread by the media", he pointed out, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"It's not. It makes wonders for those dark marks under your eyes. I have more if you-"

"Yeah, no thanks. What's all this for?"

"Oh! Right!" Courf shouted, gasping seconds later when he noticed he was ruining his facial. The next sentence came out a lot more regulated as he lifted one of the cucumber slices to look at Combeferre. "'Ferre, are you free tonight?"

"You mean on Christmas Eve? Well, no. I have a dinner. With you, by the way."

They'd agreed on staying at home, just the two of them, having a humble dinner, and exchange presents they'd bought for each other, mostly to keep the Christmas spirit. Combeferre had a few friends from college but didn't feel like sharing the date with them. And Courfeyrac, he'd said he'd stay with him, even when he certainly had somewhere else he could go to.

"Yes! But before that, I'd like you to come with me to... a place?"

That place turned to be an old theater. Courfeyrac had a last minute audition, after a girl literally broke her leg and had to cancel, leaving a space for Courf; it was, in his own words, now or never, the only chance he had to show the world what he could do and he wouldn't let it pass, even if that meant missing a big part of the Christmas dinner.

Combeferre watched him from the third row going backstage to get ready for his audition. There were only two other guys in the line, already wearing bright costumes and repeating their lines under their breaths. Combeferre caught up some of them; he'd heard Courfeyrac rehearsing in front of the bathroom's mirror a couple of times before.

The guys that stepped on stage before Courf were good, in Combeferre's opinion; he wasn't really versed in the Performing Arts, so probably he was being easily impressionable, but at least he was having a good time. When Courf's turn came over, he could practically feel Courf's nervousness. He lifted both thumbs in his roommate's direction, showing his unconditional support.

Half way through, the director stood up, stopping Courfeyrac mid sentence.

"Enough," he said. "You two, come back here." The two other men got up stage and stood next to Courfeyrac; the tension was palpable in the room. "I'm here, wasting my time, for you three. I have absolutely no reason to be here but you. And this is the best you've got to show me?" He waited a minute for an answer that never came; he shook his head, closed the folder he had on the table, and spoke again. "Pathetic. Get out of here."

"Oopsy..." Courf whispered when he reunited with Combeferre in the hallway; he didn't say anything else during the whole walk back home. When they entered the apartment, he went straight to his bed and changed into his pajamas, mumbling a soft good night before his head disappeared under the covers.

 Combeferre followed suit; "Merry Christmas", he whispered.

 

***

 

The apartment was incredible silent without Courfeyrac's constant chatter. Combeferre turned over on his bed until he was facing the wall and no his roommate's back; he was rarely at a loss for words, but he couldn't think of anything he could say in moments like this. His cellphone vibrated under his pillow and he opened the message he'd gotten on WhatsApp with narrowed eyes. It was from Courfeyrac. The same Courfeyrac that was laying on the bed next to his.

_> I'm sorry you saw that._

Combeferre peered over his shoulder and saw a dim light coming from Courfeyrac's bed. He could only see the halo around Courfeyrac's brown hair, since he was also facing the opposite wall. Combeferre thought about what to do next, tapping the corners of his cellphone with his thumbs. It was awkward, to talk with his roommate via messages when he was a few steps away from him. But still, it was obvious what he had to do.

< No worries. Are you feeling better now?

_> Sure._

_> You should've been here last year. Enjolras sang a stunning duet with Grantaire at the karaoke bar I dragged him to. They almost ended making out on stage. Gross._

< I can't quite imagine that.

_> What if I never make it, 'Ferre?_

That made Combeferre stop in tracks. After four months of living with Courfeyrac, he'd gotten used to the way his roommate always changed topics in the middle of a conversation; he had so much to say and not enough time to do so. He also voiced his deepest worries at the most unexpected of times, taking Combeferre completely aback. But the philosophy student knew what he meant this time, and a small part of him wished this didn't hurt him as much as it did; he had grown fond of the guy he shared an apartment with, it was simply crushing to read the defeat in Courfeyrac's message.

< This was just one audition. You're gonna make it, don't give up now, okay? I'll be rooting for you from the first row.

Courfeyrac didn't answer immediately and Combeferre thought he'd heard a soft whimper coming from the bed behind him. The only reply he got was a smiley face and somehow that was enough for the two of them.

 

***

 

Something Combeferre hadn't really taking into account when he moved to New York, was the freezing cold that hit the city once Winter settled down fully. Christmas had been cold, but with the end of the year barely three days away, it had become impossible to stay outside for long periods of time, even when wrapped in their warmest clothes; in their particular case, that also happened inside the apartment. Combeferre was sure the entire building kept itself upright only by the collective prayers of everyone that lived in it: wishing for a central heat was useless, not to say kind of delusional.

"There's absolutely _no way_ I strip to go inside that shower." Courfeyrac complained, practically buried under all his blankets, wearing at least three coats and a hat.

Combeferre, who wasn't that sensitive to the cold as his roommate and was only wearing his coat and sweatpants, laughed from the "kitchen" where he was making himself a cup of tea. "You'll have to do it sooner or later if we're going to your friend's party."

"Ugh, what did I do to deserve this hell?"

"If this were Hell, you wouldn't be freezing," Combeferre said, coming back to his bed, where he pulled out a small package from the bottom drawer of the bedside table that he handed to Courfeyrac after.

"Shut up... What's this, by the way?" Courfeyrac asked, shaking the package in front of his ear.

"Happy birthday."

Courfeyrac’s smile widened and a second later, he was on top of Combeferre after he tackled him in an attempt to hug him. He refuse to let him go for another ten minutes; "You're warm", he justified.

As the night progressed, the cold inside the apartment was more and more unbearable. Neither of them could sleep; Courfeyrac had gotten up a couple of times to put on another pair of socks, and even Combeferre had to dig inside his drawer, looking for a knitted hat he was sure he'd brought with him. It was past midnight when Courfeyrac finally gave up.

"'Ferre?" Courfeyrac whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Dude, it's fucking cold in here. It'd be too weird if I sleep in your bed?"

"Uh... I guess not?" Combeferre said, unsure.

He heard Courfeyrac's mattress creaking when he got up and a minute later, the soon-to-be lawyer was laying beside him, looking like a burrito all wrapped in his own blankets. They were facing each other and Combeferre saw him smiling in the dark as he rested his head on the pillow he'd brought from his bed. It took them less than ten minutes to fall asleep, comfortable in the shared warmth of the bed. They kept a safe distance between them the entire night, but when Combeferre woke up the next day, he found Courfeyrac's hand holding the sleeve of his coat; he didn't have the heart to push it away, and decided not to mention it when they were getting ready for the party in the morning.

Courfeyrac's friend, Marius, had invited them and some other friends to his house to welcome the New Year. Combeferre didn’t know anyone there, but they were all very nice and treated him well. When the last bells rang in the mansion, Courfeyrac ran up to him and kissed him on the nose, shouting 'Happy New Year' directly at his ear. Combeferre couldn't stop smiling.

 

***

 

January passed without any major incident. They mostly stayed at home, waiting for the semester to start again, trying to keep the warmth inside the small apartment while they watched Netflix without stop; most of the time it was just Courfeyrac talking about a show with dragons and a couple of incestuous siblings. Combeferre always listened, even when it was hard to follow sometimes, with so many weird names and complicated plots.

February took no longer to arrive and that also meant two problematic dates for Combeferre were near, one of them being his own birthday. It wasn't exactly that he didn't like it, he wasn't scared of aging, either, it was more that he didn't like being the center of attention, no matter what kind of attention that were; he'd never been good at it, he worked better in the dark, unnoticed, and never knew how to handle himself in the spotlight. He thought that living in a foreign country will help with that and it did, in a way, but he never really expected that sharing an apartment with someone like Courfeyrac would be as relieving as it turned out to be.

The morning of his birthday, he woke up to a card resting on his pillow that said:

_"Get up, I brought you iHop waffles.  
P.S. Happy Birthday, Combe-bear."_

He'd expected drumbeats and bright lights, he'd gotten a nice chat with someone he could now call his friend.

 

That almost made him forget about the other date he didn't enjoy in February: Valentine's Day. Walking around surrounded with loving couples and sad loners was a nightmare, added to the constant propaganda bombing he was used to see a month before the actual date. He tried to focus on the beginning of his classes, but living in New York? Yeah, it didn't make it easy.

And above all, Courfeyrac was seeing someone.

He was still in the crush state, but still, it was obvious what was going on there. Combeferre had prepare himself to be alone more often since Courf had mentioned it, because, well, he had someone now or would have it soon; he would get out of the way, that was the right thing to do.

He was turning around a corner, avoiding to look at two girls kissing in a near bench, when he felt his cellphone vibrating inside his bag with a series of messages, one after the other. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a bit surprised to see they all were from Courfeyrac:

_> Now I’m searching every lonely place_

_> Every corner calling out your name_

_> Trying to find you but I just don’t know_

_> WHERE DO BROKEN HEARTS GO?_

< Uhm...

_> HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, YOU NERD._

Well, that'd definitely gone a lot better than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Thank you so much for the kudos! They really keep me going. Thanks!!


End file.
